


And the Apocalypse Folded Itself into a Marble

by restliad



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Season 4 finale spoilers?, Time Travel, both jons are probably very ooc i am sorry, no beta we die like leitner, what do i even say to this lmfao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25819222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restliad/pseuds/restliad
Summary: Statement of The Archive and its encounter with one Jonathan Sims during the apocalypse.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims & Jonathan Sims
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	And the Apocalypse Folded Itself into a Marble

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy i’ve actually...only listened to the first season so...also i wrote this in the span of 10 minutes because i was like “heyyy what if jon meets jon? haha nice.” all i know about future seasons is from tiktoks and fanfiction. sorry about that. 
> 
> I write like how my thoughts go, very rambling and it probably doesn’t make much sense. I don’t think i’m going to continue with this, but if anyone gets inspired go nuts and drop a link so I can read it thanks!

The apocalypse had come, and Jon’s time was finally up.

A bit ironic wasn’t it, that the end he’d brought into the world himself would end up killing him. Some bullshit about the creation overtaking it’s creator and all that. Though to be fair, this particular apocalypse was more Jonah’s child than his own. Perhaps Jon could be referred to as an unwilling parent, forced to pay child support...or something. 

Martin was ten minutes behind him, Jon Knew. Jon had snuck away at the last moment you see. He’d thought he’d be getting better at this whole “talking about his feelings” and “relying on others”, if progression meant saying a bit more than “sad” at the question “how are you feeling”. Right now he’d answer “terrified, thank you” and that was two more words than the usual so, progress. 

But no. Not enough progress to gain the wisdom that, going off on a bit of a solo adventure through an apocalyptic hellscape without informing is only companion, was a bad idea. And now he would die for it (at this point, it was a bit of a welcome really).

Jon stared into the eyes of his younger self who stood silently before him, and blinked all of his eyes as one-by-one, they all focused onto the man in front of them. One last benediction. 

His younger self cautiously nodded back, flesh unmarred from the marks of even the corruption. His hair was well-maintained, his nails clean, his clothes free of wrinkles. His eyes were unburdened by the weight of beholding. His was mind free (or as much as it could have been at that point with Mr. Spider and all) from the taint of the fears.

The young man stood in front of the Archive, and the Archive Knew this was...a gift. A chance for things to be different. If he said the right things, and gods he wanted to say the right things, all his dreams would come true. A different future could be created by this new Jon. A kinder future.

But the Archive also Knew, that this was a false hope. A trap really, made of well-intentions but futile in the end for him. This would be the end for Jon as he knew it. Both of them. Whatever the Archive chose to pass on to this new Jon, well, it wouldn’t really matter in the end.

Jon would become the Archive. The Archive would become Jon. 

“It doesn’t have to be your fault you know,” the Archive stated promptly. “Everything must come to an end, and this world has reached it. But yours...”

Jon shook his head. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to bring about an apocalypse. Do you see yourself right now? You-you’ve become a monster. How in the world can you stand that? You’re the embodiment of fear itself, aren’t you disgusted?”

“Yes. Every day I look around at the world I had a hand in creating. I See the despair and pain and horror that line every street, around every corner, and I hate myself so much I want to die.”

“So you’re just giving up then?”

“I suppose so. Though i’m sure others would say that by talking with you, I’m doing the most I can. Our time is up. What do you want to do?”

Jon scoffed bitterly. “Fuck you. This wasn’t a choice.”

“Oh Jon. You’ll understand. Everything is a choice.”

The Archive smiled, and leaned forwards to press a kiss onto Jon’s forehead. Jon’s eyes fluttered closed. 

Then the apocalypse faded into white, and for the first time in a very long time, the Archive ceased its watching. The world folded into itself in a million different ways, until it was the size of a mere marble, then it folded smaller and smaller until it just, folded itself out of existence perhaps?

Statement Ends.

And then, well, the end wasn’t quite the end was it.

One Jonathan Sims- or was he The Archive? Could he be even considered human at this point? He-it-he didn’t know. He didn’t Know. It knew everything. Anything. Nothing. His head was quiet. Its head was louder than the screams of a billion tortured souls trapped by their fears. He could see every corner of the observable universe. Its vision was reduced to mere two eyes in his head. It pressed his palms against his eyes, fighting down the nausea that threatened to overtake it-him-it.

What was a mere human named Jonathan Sims compared to The Archive. How prideful he must have been to even think that his puny existence could influence something as all-encompassing as the living record of every story on the planet, even by a minuscule amount. No. Jonathan. Jon. He was still here. Everything must come to an end. Where did the Archive end and Jonathan begin? He was alive. He was. He is. Who is Jonathan Sims. Where is he now? He was, he is, in his flat? 

Jonathan Sims removed his hands from his eyes and stared with his very human eyes at his very human residence in a very human world that may or may not have contained eldritch horrors beyond his current comprehension(s).

So many terrible things were out there. An eternity falling through the vast of an ever hungry sky. The sweet call of a life cut too short and chaos and violence upon violence and slaughter and the faint smell of burning wood. A siren’s song of home and family and belonging and knowing exactly what your purpose would be why you existed on this god forsaken plant to suffer. The thrill of chasing prey and becoming prey, and the end that waits for all, and the-hm.

He looked at the clock on the far side of the room (he shouldn’t have been able to see that far, especially in the pitch black) and noticed it was about 2 in the morning and came to a very selfish decision only able to be made by the most selfish bastard of all bastards. 

He decided everything would be a problem for future Jon. 

And the Archive collapsed back onto his pillows, and closed its eyes. Sleep came easy that night.

**Author's Note:**

> “So, i’ve come to the conclusion that my coworkers are probably not trying to kill me.”
> 
> Tim stared blankly at Jon, who had entered the building and walked straight to Tim’s desk in research.
> 
> “What?”


End file.
